


All My Drabbles (or some of them)

by bettydice (BettyKnight)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Mass Effect, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic, Star Wars: The Old Republic
Genre: A hint of smut, Angst, F/F, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Random Assortment Of Drabbles, Some Humor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:20:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 6,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BettyKnight/pseuds/bettydice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of assorted tumblr writing prompts I did</p><p>somehow most of these are sad, my apologies</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Zip Me (f!Hawke/Merrill)

“Hawke, the bath is ready, you should get up.”

Hawke turned around under the covers, facing away from her. Merrill sighed and gently put her hand on Hawke’s shoulder.

“Lethallan, I know you don’t want to leave the bed but I think it would be good for you! I put in your favourite bath oils - can you smell the lavender? There’s also some foam for you to play with!”

Hawke neither moved nor said a word.

“I brought some flowers with me and it really brightened the room! There’s some daisies, of course! You always say they’re your favourite, because _I’m_ your favourite.”

Merrill stroked her hand through Hawke’s hair and recieved a low grumble.  
  
“I guess _I_ can always take the bath instead of you, but I don’t like lavender quite as much!” She leaned in and pressed a kiss on Hawke’s shoulder. ”Just a quick bath, Hawke, you can go straight to bed after, I won’t bother you.”

Finally, Hawke turned around again and looked at her. Her face was pale and sunken, her eyes red and bloodshot.  
  
“Oh, _ma vhenan_ …” Merrill felt her eyes fill with tears and got up before Hawke could see it. She helped her get out of bed, led her to the tub, Hawke’s fingers painfully digging into her shoulder.   
  
Merrill stood in front of her, caressed her cheek and gave her a smile. Then she carefully helped Hawke take off her shirt. As she stood there, only in her underwear, she looked so small and lost. But then, she truly was. A child yearning for her mother.  
  
With tender hands, Merrill took off Hawke’s breastband, helped her step out of her smalls. Hawke gripped her hand as she guided her into the water, her body disappearing beneath the foam. The lavender scent was heavy in the air and Merrill hoped that it surrounded Hawke, filled her mind and soothed her agonising thoughts.

Merrill sat on a stool next to the tub and took Hawke’s hand in hers. Her love had lost her clan and now it was Merrill’s turn to look out for her. The strength she had taken from Hawke, it was time to give it back. 

“Merrill…” Hawke’s voice was barely more than a whisper, her lips shaking from trying not to cry.

“Don’t worry, love, I’m here. It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

In the safety of the bath, clouded by heat and foam and lavender, Hawke finally released her tears, holding onto Merrill’s hand like a lifeline, who shared her tears until they were both cried out.

That night, Hawke fell into a deep sleep, Merrill watching over her and making sure that she was undisturbed and that her dreams were gentle. 

It was her turn to be strong.


	2. Paint Me (Kaidan/Shepard)

There were thousands of pictures and recordings of her, he’d searched for them all. None of them were of _her_. 

If he could paint, he would capture her strength. The one that never showed on all the vids they played. The strength that held her together, even when they tore her apart. He felt it when she charged the enemy, one collision after another. He felt it in the tears she held back. The tears she cried late at night, thinking him asleep.

If he could draw, he’d sketch her laughter. The one she kept hidden, and that he treasured more than anything. He’d use all the colours to bring it to life and yet it wouldn’t be enough. 

He would use the sun to paint her love. Warming him, burning him, consuming him. The love that kept him going, beyond all hope.

If he could paint, he’d use the stars to draw the map that’d bring her back to him.


	3. Unbind Me (Blackwall/Lavellan)

She never felt safer than when they laid together, his large body embracing hers. His heat and his smell a shield from the world around them. Lysanna let her fingers run through the thick hair on his chest and was rewarded with a pleased rumble.

"You’re free to go, you know.” The words left her lips before she could stop them.

Blackwall stiffened next to her and she could feel his heart start beating faster under her hand. “Do you… do you want me to?”

Lysanna lifted her head so she could look at him, moving her hand in a soothing pattern across his chest. “Not at all. I just… Corypheus is defeated. I don’t want you to stay because you feel like you _owe_ me or because of some misguided gratitude. When I said that you’re a free man, _I meant it_. Even if your freedom is away from me.”

Strong fingers enveloped hers and he sat up, pulling her with him so that their faces were close together.

“And I meant it when I said that I would never lose you again.” 

His lips brushed hers, his arms closing around her in a tight hug.

“I meant it when I said that I love you.”

He kissed her cheek, his beard tickling her skin and his voice was close to her ear when he spoke next.

“I’m yours, _nothing_ will change that.”


	4. Mourn Me (Aveline/Wesley)

Most days, his shield was a reassurance. A reminder of what she was fighting for. He might be gone, but now her arms just had to be twice as strong, her heart beating in his rhythm as much as hers, her legs drawing strength from all the times she’d carried him.

Aveline did not falter, she did not resign.

He was gone, but she was still here.

 

There were other days…

His shield a burden on her back, heavy with things unsaid and unfullfilled promises. Her arms so weak, hands tainted with his blood. Her heart growing ever smaller, missing his love. Her legs so shaky, she wanted to curl up and sleep, find him in her dreams.

She was still here.


	5. Broken Wings (Isabela/Merrill)

“Why am I still here.”

Merrill put her head in her hands and let out a long sigh. Her head was hurting, her neck was painfully tense and her eyes swam because she had been concentrating for so long. And still, nothing.

“In the alienage? Beats me, kitten, this place is so depressing. I only come here because I like you and sometimes it’s the only way to see you.”

Isabela was stretched out on her bed, flipping through one of her books and absently devouring all the dried apricots Merrill had bought for a not insignificant amount of money. But they were Isabela’s favourite and the lady who sold them had been very nice, so she didn’t want to haggle about the price. She got up and sat down again on the floor with her back against the bed. Isabela’s hand immediately moved to stroke her hair and Merrill leaned into the touch. Isabela’s fingers were a bit sticky from the fruit but she didn’t mind.

“I meant, why am I still _here_. Sitting in front of this mirror, every day. Still here. In Kirkwall.”

She was so tired. The mirror was draining her and Merrill wasn’t sure how much more she had left to give. It felt like it was growing larger and more terrifying every day, absorbing her mana, sucking her dry. Soon she would be en empty husk, having sacrificed everything to this obsession that gave back _nothing_. In her dreams, she was sitting in a pool of blood that slowly flowed into the mirror, feeding it. But it wasn’t her own, it was the blood of her clan, their slaughtered bodies piled up behind the mirror. Sometimes it was Isabela’s or Hawke’s.  She wanted to scream and run away, but Marethari’s cold hands dug into her shoulders, keeping her still. 

As always, it was Isabela who pulled her out of her thoughts. One of the apricots was pushed against her lips and she obediently opened her mouth, the sweetness of the fruit chasing away the bitterness of her mind.

“You’re here because you need to be. I should know, my sweet. I’ve tried running away, but the tide has always brought me back. And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

Merrill turned around and pulled Isabela down until she could put her arms around her neck and kiss her. Isabela tasted like apricots and smelled like home.

 _Home_ \- it was not the alienage, nor Kirkwall.

It was lying in Isabela’s arms, intently listening while she conjured up devastating storms and exciting battles with her voice.

It was sitting in the Hanged Man, her friends all various stages of drunk and Merrill sitting in the middle, taking in their laughter and happiness and keeping it for later, when she couldn’t find it in herself.

It was Isabela taking her by the hand and hauling her to their favourite hat shop and not leaving until they both found something that would make Aveline groan with disgust.

It was Isabela, Isabela, Isabela.

They were here because where else would they be?


	6. Shackles (Blackwall/f!Inquisitor)

Sometimes when they laid together, he put her left hand over his chest. He imagined the mark bursting to life, burning away all that was rotten inside of him, healing him until he was a man worthy of her love. Or maybe it would consume him, banish him from this world like all the other demons.

When they didn’t spend the night together, he stayed awake. There was no escape from the nightmares clawing at his mind, but if he kept himself busy, sometimes he could ignore them for a while. A drink with Sera that turned into several empty tankards in front of him. A sparring match with Bull, who had his own demons to fight. When he couldn’t find anyone, he started whittling, enjoying how an unshapely lump turned into _something_ in his hands.

It was never enough. There was no escaping from who he was, no matter how hard he tried to forget, no matter how much he wanted to atone. How could he find redemption when he knew that he would never grant forgiveness to himself.

When he found the report on Mornay, once the cold regret had subsided, he finally knew what he had to do.

He made love to her one last time, pouring all the things he could never be into her. His kisses carried the courage he’d so desperately chased, his touch full of the strength she’d need and he couldn’t give. His words were full of his love for her, the only thing he knew was real.

When he left towards Val Royeaux, he’d stripped himself of everything good, everything that was Blackwall. He’d returned to Thom Rainier and his demons carried him towards the gallows.

Might he find redemption there.


	7. That Hurt [Chakwas/Zaeed]

“Goddamn, that hurt! Why are you always torturing me like this, Doc?”

“You said you probably needed vaccination after the mess on that derelict reaper and I was happy to oblige.”

To emhpasize her point, Chakwas slapped the band aid she’d covered the tiny puncture wound with. Zaeed gave a short yelp and then glared at her.

“I’ll have to bring Jessie with me next time, that fuc… _bloody hell_ that hurt!”

“You know the rules, no weapons in the medbay.”

Chakwas turned around to hide her chuckle and started putting the vaccination instruments into the cleaner. Behind her, Zaeed was _lingering_ , it was very disconcerting.

“That was all, Mr. Massani.”

“ _Zaeed_ , I fuc… you can call me Zaeed… ma’am.”

She could see his blurry reflection in the metallic surface of the medical cabinet in front of her. He was looking at her back with a pitiful expression of _hope_. There was a reason he kept coming in here, hair combed and face washed. A reason he started lingering, trying to strike up awkward conversations. It was not that she did not know what he was doing or that she was completely unaffected. 

Behind his scarred facade was something much smoother. Like a good brandy that burned at first but then left your entire body tingling, warmth spreading into every bone. But she was his doctor, he was her patient and they were on a goddamn suicide mission. 

Chakwas turned to check his band aid again, allowed her hand to cover his for a short moment and gave him a sad smile.

“That was all, Mr. Massani.”


	8. It's not loaded (Zaeed/Chakwas)

“…it’s not loaded.”

“Would you be so kind and put the gun back down, Mr. Massani. And is that disappointment I hear in your voice?”

Zaeed sighed and returned the gun to its resting place, next to the bottle of brandy he’d brought her the last time.

“Why even tease me and keep a gun when it’s not loaded, Doc. That’s cruel.”

He only recieved a stern glare and a raised eyebrow as answer but it was enough to heat up the air around them. How she managed to do that every goddamn time, he had no idea. 

Zaeed smoothed his hair back in a gesture that definitely counted as ‘nervous’ and _why the fucking goddamn shit was he nervous._

“So, Doc… _Karin_ …”

“Mr. Massani?”

Her lips were fucking twitching, she _enjoyed_ seeing him like this, all nervous and stammering. Goddamn this woman.

Zaeed moved until he stood directly in front of her, so close that she would feel the heat coming from his body, his breath on her face. Karin blinked a few times and then swallowed hard. He let his hand brush against hers, a touch so fleeting it could have been an accident and yet… And yet.

This close, he could see the lines around her mouth, the wrinkles at her eyes, hinting at times full of laughter, long past. There was a scar on her forehead, usually hidden by hair - a story she kept to herself. He leaned in closer, his forehead almost touching hers and he could feel words forming on his tongue, words that felt strange to him, rarely used before. They were there, waiting behind his teeth…

“How about we share some of that brandy?”

Maybe another time. Another place.


	9. Not even loaded (Isabela and Varric)

“It’s not even loaded.”

Isabela cackled and then put her arm around Varric’s shoulder.

“But don’t you just want to hold it in your hands one time? Caress the _hard wood_ , feel the strength under your fingers. This was built with only one purpose: to give the power of destruction to its wielder. Crafted so skillfully, it almost _pulsates_ with the desire _to shoot its load_ into the waiting body of its next victim.”

“If you’re trying to get me to cheat on Bianca, you’re gonna have to try much harder than this.”

“Mhmmm, _cheating_. The excitement of giving in to the forbidden desire. The danger of being caught. Come on, Varric, touch it just once.”

“Bela, I’m not going to even _look_ at this mouldy crossbow you _literally_ found inside a corpse.”

“Aw, you’re no fun. _Hawke_ would do it.”

Varric could not hold back his laughter any longer and then sighed.

“Yes, yes she would. Let’s take it with us then. 2 pieces of gold say that she isn’t even going to ask where you found it.”

“You’re on!”


	10. Just a scratch (Zaeed/Chakwas)

“It’s just a scratch.”

“Well, then I can just take care of it real quick, if it’s _just a scratch_.”

Karin narrowed her eyes and squared her jaw, making it clear that he could shove his opinions up his ass. Though she’d probably not use those words, not while sober anyway. _Fuck,_ he wanted a drink.

“Leave it, Massani. There are people with _actual_ injuries that need me.”

“You already stitched ‘em up, Doc. I’m sure the Salarian is happy to take over now.”

Zaeed gently took her elbow. She shrugged him off but still followed him out of the medbay and sat down at the table in the mess hall.

“Karin, you’re shaking.”

It was unsettling seeing her like this; composed as usual but with shock and fury crawling beneath her skin, only held back by her iron will. If he could go back and blow up the Collector base a second time, he would not think twice about jumping through the Omega 4 relay.

Explosions and gunfire, that was how _he_ dealt with things. Neither of those seemed to be an option right now. Zaeed sat down next to Karin and hesitated only for a second before he put his arm around her shoulders.

“You’re safe now.”

_I thought I lost you.  
_

_I was so…  
_

_I was afraid._

They sat like that for a moment until Karin let out a deep breath, as if she’d been holding it in ever since the attack of the Collectors. When she was done, all tautness had left her body as well and she leaned into him, her head coming to rest on his shoulder.

“We’re both safe now.”


	11. Burnt Coffee (Kaidan/Shepard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon prompt: She smelled like burnt coffee.

The hopes and fears of an entire galaxy have turned her into an idea, a weapon; her name as much of a burden as it is a pedestal. Here, in his arms, she’s nothing but human. 

He knows her bones and muscles have been altered, he still remembers the red scars drawing angry patterns on her face. Back when he didn’t know whether she was a ghost, a nightmare or a miracle. But now her skin is warm under his hands and her voice is soft in his ear and he knows, _he knows_ that whatever they turned her into, she’s still his and he loves her.

She smells like burnt coffee and she smells like Earth.

Her fingers linger against his chest and as her lips brush against his it feels like a farewell. And yet he hopes…


	12. These sort of things (Garrus/Shepard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First sentence prompt by dakoyone:  
> "Why do I let you talk me into these things?"

Garrus leaned against the console next to her and she could tell he was looking her over. His stance was relaxed and his voice teasing, but she knew he was worried. His visor was probably telling him all about her elevated heart rate and increased perspiration.

“These _things_?”

Shepard raised her eyebrow at him, which he wouldn’t be able to see with their helmets on. But she was sure he knew it was there anyway.

“You know, certain death, suicide runs, _boarding a dreadnought full of hostile geth_ , that kinda thing.”

He cocked his head to one side, a question.

“I didn’t have to talk you into it, you were _asking_ for it.”

She nods at him brusquely, once, twice. She’s fine. Who got shaken up just because they had a little walk through space. Certainly not Commander fucking Shepard. She hadn’t died the last time either, had she…

“Practically _begging_ , if you ask me.” Tali piped in, still busy trying to override the door across from them.  

“Nobody’s asking you though, Tali.”

With Tali’s back still turned, Garrus let his fingers rest on top of hers for a moment. She hoped that he couldn’t feel through their armour how they were still shaking.

“Care to tell that to my shotgun, Vakarian?”

The door finally hissed open and Shepard squared her shoulders, glad to have no more time to _think_.

“Ready to go, Shepard?”

She let out a breath and moved towards the door.

“Got my six, Vakarian?”

“Always.”


	13. Stars (Garrus/Shepard)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First sentence prompt by Perahn:  
> "In space, you navigate by the stars - like her."

But the sky is on fire and all the stars have gone out. Her eyes are open but she’s not sure if they can _see_.

She hears waves, crashing over her. She thought she was back in what’s left of London, but the fall had been long and the impact hard. Not that she can feel anything.

Water. Maybe Thane was right.

_Come back alive._

The sob ripping from her throat makes her choke and suddenly she is struggling for air. Her lungs are burning and her skin is tearing and she might be crying. She _feels_.

She lives.

She stares into the vastness stretching out above her and she wonders if there’s enough stars left in the sky to bring her home. 


	14. Thinking of you (Chakwas/Zaeed; nsfw)

Zaeed woke up to find that it was still in the middle of the night cycle and that he was _painfully hard._ While he’d adapted a been-there-fucking-done-that mindset a very long time ago when it came to getting a “reasonable amount of sleep”, as Karin had once put it, his body insisted on at least resting for a few hours now and then. And why was he thinking about the Doc now. Goddamn inappropriate, with his cock throbbing and begging for attention. Sadly, not entirely coincidental, if the hazy images from the dream still floating in his mind were any indication.

_You’re just a dirty bastard, Zaeed. No fucking self-control._

But he had to deal with this, in one way or another and he might as well…

He turned off the surveillance monitors across the room. He was 100% sure they were only one way, and yet he really didn’t need the feeling of being watched, even though the Normandy was quite deserted this time of space. He sighed, put one hand behind his head and the other closed around his cock. This was going to be hard and fast and then maybe he could get another two or three hours of rest in.

Except that he couldn’t focus. This never happened to him. Just think of someone random and imagine it giving to them real fucking good, end of story. But in his mind, there was Karin, looking at him with slight disapproval in her eyes, her brow arching in that way he found so frustratingly intriguing, making his fantasy-self straighten up and smooth his hair. Yeah, this would have to be slow. Once he was lucky enough to somehow get her into his bed, he’d take his time with her. Begin kissing her hand, up her arm. Take some time to caress her throat with his lips, while he simply held her.

Zaeed groaned and began moving his hand, gathering some of the moisture at the head of his cock and then pumping it, slowly. He imagined Karin pressing into him, still clothed, her breath tickling his ear while his lips pressed a trail from her throat over her jaw until he took her mouth in a deep kiss. Her body would be soft yet strong against his and…

The door to his room opened.

His eyes flew open in panic and then his heart exploded like a grenade and sprayed anxiety-coated shrapnel everywhere.

Dr. Karin Chakwas was standing in his room, a bottle of brandy in her hand. And she was staring at him. At him holding his cock in his hand. He was fucking wanking, thinking of her and she was in his goddamn room and why was this fucking door even open? _Fuck my entire fucking life._

“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt.”

She was decidedly still staring and he should probably cover up but he was simply petrified. She made no attempt to move either, though there was a definite twitch to her lips. Whether a horrified or an amused one, it wasn’t clear. Probably the first.

“What are you doing here in the middle of the night, Doc?”

She tore her eyes away from his cock (that was still standing tall and proud, if there was ever a fucking time for it to go soft it was _RIGHT FUCKING NOW_ ) and looked at the bottle in her hand.

“I thought I’d finally get back to you on that invitation for a drink… but I can see how me just _popping up_ unannounced could be _hard_ on you..”

She was goddamn trying not to laugh. Two could play that game. He was going to hell anyway.

“Yeah, you’re goddamn right. Didn’t even manage to get you naked in my mind before you showed up.”

Her head flew back up and her cheeks flushed a delicious red that he could see even in the darkness of the room.

“Oh…Then… by all means, continue. I shall see you… around “ She cleared her throat. “Enjoy.”

She put the brandy on his table and then rushed out of the room, clearly flustered, but he could swear she was winking at him before she left.

_Fucking goddamn fucking shit._ What the fuck just happened.

He could think about that later, right now he had a raging hard-on to tend to and he had a feeling that things would proceed much faster, now that he had Karin’s voice, her smirk and her flushed face fresh in his mind.

He gripped his cock and got back to work.


	15. Things you said through your teeth [Jorgan/Trooper]

“Agent Balkar really came through, didn’t he.”

Jorgan’s lips disappeared and were replaced by a black line that Skadaa felt weirdly compelled to complement with two dots and a ‘v’.

“Maybe we should sent him a message to let him know how much we appreciate his efforts.”

A frown. And a twitch. She wondered when he’d snap.

“What’s your professional opinion, as my XO? Do we need to reimburse him for his trouble? Would a token of _our_ appreciation be inappropriate? I’m thinking wine or chocolate?”

“That should not be necessary, sir.”

He made a fist with his right hand. Nice.

“You’re right. It should be something more _personal_. Maybe I can get back on that dinner invitation…”

The frown intensified until he frowned so hard his forehead looked almost smooth again. Were Balkar with them in this shuttle, he’d probably instantly blow up after being hit by one of the missiles shooting from Jorgan’s eyes. Skadaa leaned back and grinned.

“You’re enjoying this, sir.”

“Oh, you bet I am.”

Jorgan carefully relaxed his muscles one after the other as if he was going through a list of body parts in his mind. As soon as he’d unclenched his hand, a subtle smirk appeared on his face and he leaned forward until he reached the Invading Personal Space area.

“Do you think I’m jealous?”

She moved her leg so that her knee touched his and thought, not for the first time, that this armour was in her fucking way and she should get rid of it.

“There’s no reason to be.”

His hands twitched as if he wanted to reach out and grab her and he moved even closer, his eyes locked with hers. Skadaa just had to lean forward a little and their heads would touch. She could hear his steady breath, could almost feel it. So close, so easy to close the fucking distance…

“You have reached your destination. Please exit the shuttle.”

When the doors opened they were both leaning against the wall of their side of the shuttle, putting on their helmets.

Another time.


	16. Sciophobia (Garrus/Shepard)

One step forward. All sound cuts off. And she falls into nothingness.

It’s worse when she closes her eyes, so she keeps them open, trying to focus on the fact that she is here, sitting in the Kodiak. And not falling, falling, falling.

She wonders if it’s from not sleeping or a remnant of the nightmares she has when she does sleep. All she knows is that once the adrenaline fades away, she’s s _o fucking tired._ And then it starts.

Her glove comes off and someone pinches her, hard. The pain pulls her back from the abyss.

Of course the bastard would notice.

* * *

He’s waiting for her when she comes out of the shower and she lies down on her bed, back turned towards him. What is there to say?  
  
“Shepard…”

“It’s not during missions. Don’t worry. Only… after.”

It’s not an easy feat to comfortably snuggle with Garrus but when his arms close around her, she feels safe.

From then on, when she’s in free fall, when her squad’s faces blur into shadows, there’s talons pinching her and his foot resting heavy on hers.

 

“What do I do if you’re not next to me?”  
  
“That won’t happen.”

 

A few days later  - it could just be one day or several weeks, she has a hard time keeping track - she finds a chain with a pendant on her pillow. It’s a very familiar shape.

“Archangel, huh?”

“Just a reminder of how impossibly cool your boyfriend is.”

She draws him close by his carapace and presses against him, enjoy his warmth until he lifts her up and carries her to the bed.

* * *

She can’t grasp it under her armour but she can concentrate on the weight of it and it is… Something to bind her to reality when the shadows are threatening to take over.

* * *

One step forward. One _final step._ And she falls.

If she had air in her lungs, she’d laugh. She finished the mission. Now she can rest.

She hopes they’re safe. She hopes it worked.

The tears leaving her eyes trail behind her as she falls to earth like a comet.

She wakes on the ground and everything hurts. Between every blink, hours pass.

Sometimes she forgets to breathe. Floating between life and death.

If her hand could just find his, Shepard thinks he’d be able to pull her towards… something.  

Her eyes fall shut.

Time to go.

* * *

Her eyes flutter open as her hand fucking hurts. She’d curse in pain but there’s something on her mouth and she can’t move.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Her skin is still healing, watch your talons! She’s bleeding!”

Miranda’s voice.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, Vakarian.”

“She’s back.”

She’s alive. _Huh._


	17. When you're drunk (Garrus/Shepard)

A stray beam from a star, a sun, falls into the cabin and highlights the dust particles drifting aimlessly around. Shepard shakes her head as if to shrug off the light and one of her hairs floats to the ground. Garrus’ eyes follow, as in trance. Her hairs… he’s begun finding them everywhere once he started paying attention. Yet Shepard insists that it’s not like fur and it’s _not_ shedding.

The hair curls up on the floor. So incredibly thin. It should be barely visible, logic would dictate. But today, in this random beam of light, the red hair shines like a tiny beacon.

“I love your hair.”

Shepard laughs, her shoulders moving against his.

“Why do you always say that when you’re drunk?”

“It’s beautiful.”

She laughs again, slightly tinged with disbelief and then she swiftly moves and before he can say more, she’s in his lap, her chest pressing into his carapace and his hands are full of her ass as he nuzzles against her neck, her hair, her lips.

Whenever he wakes, she’s usually already up and gone. An entire galaxy demanding for her attention. All that’s left is her hair on her pillow. A reminder that she’d been there next to him, more than a dream or a memory. Not like on Palaven where he couldn’t stop wondering whether she still was… She still was. She _is._

Garrus closes his eyes and deepens the kiss, presses her closer and carries her to the bed.

* * *

It doesn’t get easier the more he has to watch her disappear. Down into the depths of freezing water, linked to the fucking Geth consensus… She just _has_ to keep doing things like that.

Weighing millions against billions… This is what the war has done to them.

Yet her life… He knows. He’s not able to think of her like that. To reduce her to a number. Not _her._ He needs her to make it through all the fucking dangers she throws herself into.

He dares to ask… A foolish hope, naive even. But she has to… he needs her to…

“Come back alive.”

* * *

She once caught him trying to pick up one of her hairs with his gloved talons from the seat of the Kodiak.

“Don’t have enough reach for that one, Big Guy?”

“My awesome sniper precision doesn’t seem to be of help much here, surprisingly.”

She’d just snorted a laugh and not even asked why he bothered with picking up her dead protein filaments. He was grateful.

* * *

So… he holds her close and presses his face against hers.

Because he needs her here, he’s so grateful she’s _alive_ and that the strands she loses is all that’s lost its life and… he _needs_ her… and…

He laughs and says “I love your hair.”


	18. Cherry Pits [Garrus/Shepard]

“Alright, fine. I’ll give you a chance to regain your honour.”

“What are you talking about, Vakarian.”

He was literally unable to just let her nap in peace, wasn’t he?

“What, you don’t remember your shameful defeat on top of the Presidium?”

A ghost of a smile flickered across Shepard’s face.

“Must have forgotten, hit my head pretty hard recently, you know.”

“Mhm, convenient.”

She scoffed at that.

“Anyway, _generous_ as I am, I’ll offer you a rematch.”

“Quit the crap, Garrus. How would I… ”

Clearly annoyed now, Shepard clenched her teeth, holding back words that were threatening to spill out. No need to state the obvious.

“Trust me.”

Her eyes flickered up to his at the gentleness in his voice and she groaned. No peace, no rest with him around. No time for her to wallow in self pity either…

“Fine. I’m fucking Commander Shepard, Saviour of the Galaxy. No reason I can’t be a One Armed Sniper, too.”

“That’s my girl.”

* * *

“What the fuck, Garrus.”

“Expected something else?”

The glee in his voice made her stop feeling slightly bad about him having to crouch uncomfortably to be able to push her in her human-sized wheelchair.

“I don’t know who sold you those but they were bullshitting you. Those are not bullets, those are-”

“Cherry pits, yeah.”

Garrus walked around the wheelchair until she could see him and then squatted down so they were eye to eye. His mandibles flicked in amusement and his talons rested on her good knee.

“What, you thought they’d let us fire sniper rifles in the hospital?”

“Well…”

“Why don’t we wait until your super cool robot arm is attached before I smuggle you out for target practice.”

“Maybe they’ll install an assault rifle function, if I ask them nicely.”

“Until then…”

He nodded towards the bowl of cherry pits. Unbelievable… how did he… when…

“Garrus.”

“Hm?”

Her fingers curled around one of his talons and without meaning to, a tear ran down her cheek. Traitor eyes.

His forehead pressed against hers, his eyes closed, giving her the illusion of a hiding place until she moved her head back a little so she could kiss him.

“What would I do without you…”

“You wouldn’t have to suffer through being embarrassed in the noble human tradition of cherry pit spitting by your turian boyfriend, for one.”

“I’ll destroy you.”

* * *

Turns out, Turians had a hard time spitting cherry pits without lips. However, they excelled at making their lovers laugh until a wound starts bleeding again.

Worth it.


	19. Nebel [Zevran/Warden]

Fog was stretching its arcane fingers upwards between the trees.

There’d only ever been one tree worth taking note of in the Alienage and misty weather had never smelled like this… as though a brand new world would be unveiled after it dispersed. Jandi desperately wanted to join the mist, rise above and only settle once she’d found a better place to go. A better fate to take on.

She reached out and ran her fingertips over the bark, mirroring a gesture she’d done thousands of time. _Vhenadahl._ Back then she’d thought all trees must be like that. From another time, silent guardians of history long forgotten.

Now, standing in a fucking forest full of bloody trees, there was nothing special about this single one in front of her. Just like so many things she’d once thought about with awe…

Jandi closed her eyes, her hands resting on the tree trunk, and breathed in the moss, listened to creatures moving about. The world was too large for her to comprehend, how could they expect her to save it?

Zevran let her know that he was approaching and she turned around and tried to smile.

“How embarrassing. You caught me connecting to my tree-hugging heritage.”

“Ah, I see.” He smiled as he stretched out his arms, essentially caging her between them, and pressed his palms against the tree. His legs brushed against her in a way that she would call casual if she weren’t talking about Zevran. “Feels nice. Maybe the Dalish have some pleasant ideas after all.”

She nestled her hand in the collar of his shirt, let her knuckles skim over his collarbones before pulling him in closer to her. Zevran let himself be pulled until his body was resting warmly against hers, his weight pressing the rough bark into her back.

“I hear fucking against a tree is a time-honoured Dalish tradition.”

Zevran failed to keep up the sexy smolder he was sporting and laughed one of his rare inhibited laughs. So close, his exhale stirred the hair around her face. Overcome with an emotion she didn’t yet dare to name, Jandi kissed him as gently as she could. Brushing her lips against his, she imagined his laughter igniting her like a spark and when he ground his hips against hers while deepening the kiss, she felt the heat _everywhere._

“Zevran”, she breathed between kisses. “Make me rise.”


End file.
